She had wondered about all the flags and bunting strung from the castle battlements. When Princess Laura explained the reason for them Carrie’s earlier sense of dread increased. They were in honour of the Palio, the annual horse race through the old city. Men with loyalties to different ancient families gathered to pit themselves and their horses against each other. It was both exciting and dangerous to watch, Princess Laura had said, and so they would stand on the ramparts where they were certain to be safe from flying hooves.
Apparently, the racetrack circled the main square and then wove through the narrow streets, which gave the crowds a grandstand view. The riders took far too many risks, Princess Laura had told her, because there was a lot at stake. The reward for the winner was nothing more than an old flag, but the real prize was honour and for that, men would risk their lives, she’d added with an accepting shrug.
Nico’s was an ancient family, Carrie thought anxiously, the most ancient of all the families in Niroli. But, surely, he wouldn’t be involved? She had asked the princess, who had dismissed the idea out of hand, saying she would never allow a son of hers to take part in the Palio; it was far too dangerous.
That had been the cue for Carrie’s heart to thump with alarm, and now she was alone in her room she could think of nothing else. How many years had it been since Nico had obeyed a direct order from his mother? She had almost worn a hole in the rug fretting about him. He had been wearing riding breeches when he had left her; what was she supposed to think? And how could he take part in such a dangerous race when he knew he was soon to be a father?
He wouldn’t, Carrie assured herself. Nico might not love her sufficiently to tell her where he was going, but he would never take part in the Palio now he had discovered he had a child on the way.
She was overcome with relief when he returned unexpectedly and followed him to the bathroom, watching him like a hawk as he sluiced his face, trying to detect the smallest clue that might point to him preparing for the race. But then she remembered that danger was commonplace for Nico and there would be no clues.
‘I’m sorry, am I intruding on your afternoon?’ he demanded mockingly when she hovered anxiously at his side.
‘Just tell me you wouldn’t—’
‘Wouldn’t what?’ Nico cut across her. His voice was muffled as he dried his face.
‘You wouldn’t expose yourself to danger?’
Straightening up, he tossed the towel over the rail. ‘I’m not the one who’s pregnant, Carrie. I don’t have to sit with my feet up all day—’
‘And neither do I, Nico. And you know that’s not what I am talking about.’
‘What are you talking about? What’s on your mind, Carrie?’
‘Are you going to race in the Palio?’
‘And if I am?’
‘And if I don’t want you to?’ She was forced to move back as he moved past her into the bedroom.
‘I’d say you’d have to rethink.’
His manner frightened her. ‘Is that why you brought me back to Niroli, Nico…to watch you kill yourself?’
‘I came back to Niroli for my brother; the race is an incidental—’
‘An incidental?’ Carrie interrupted. ‘Like me? Like your baby? Or do we come even lower down in the pecking order than the race?’
‘Carrie, stop this,’ he snapped.
She shrugged him off when he tried to take hold of her. ‘I think you’re in love with danger. I think it’s the only thing you do love. And that makes me wonder, Nico, what small part of your heart is left for me and how much for your baby—’
‘Now you’re overreacting and being ridiculous—’
‘Am I? Is it ridiculous to love someone as much as I love you?’
‘It’s only a horse race—’
‘A dangerous horse race!’ She cut across him. ‘A horse race like no other!’
‘You have been doing your homework.’
‘Don’t mock me and don’t turn away from me!’ Chasing after him, she grabbed his sleeve before he reached the door. ‘I love you, Nico…Please don’t do this…’ His arm was stiff and unresponsive beneath her hand; his face no less so.
‘I’m not ten years old, Carrie.’ He snatched his arm from her grasp. ‘Stay out of things you don’t understand. The Palio is a matter of national pride—’
‘The Palio is a battle of testosterone!’
‘Spoken like a woman—’
‘Spoken like the mother of your child! The mother who wants a father for her child…’ It was pointless trying to reason with him, Carrie realised. ‘You haven’t changed, at all, have you, Nico?’